I Can't Help It
by PuppyQueenAndKittenOverlord
Summary: Dean goes on a normal hunting trip, but tragedy strikes. (I'm bad at summaries but it's actually really good) WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH
1. Goodbye

**A/N: So, um, my friend rewrote the first chapter, and, honestly, it's so much better, so I'm posting it as a kind of Chapter 2, but, not? Okay guys, prepare to cry more.**

Dean picked up the phone shakily, his palms clammy and his breaths becoming shallow and quick. He was bleeding out, he knew it, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Sam wasn't coming to the abandoned warehouse, and neither was Cas, and he was going to die.

"Dean," came the weakened angel's gravelly voice from the earpiece. "Are you alright?"

Dean loved him, and he loved how he cared and he loved how he worried.

"Yeah, Cas," Dean lied, making an effort to keep his voice calm and steady in spite of the heaviness growing in his chest and eyelids. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just wrapped up a case. How's Sam doing with the Darkness research?"

"Sam has found an old Enochian text that speaks of a man who died, and his soul was powerful enough to force the Darkness back to its realm. He is translating it as we speak."

"That's great, Cas. Let him know I'm proud of him, 'kay?" croaked Dean, his arms beginning to tremble with fatigue and his stomach painted a familiar red with his own blood.

"Of course," Cas replied. The angel paused, then murmured, "Dean, are you sure you are alright? I can come get you if needed. I'm fairly adequate with a vehicle."

"I'm sure you are," Dean chuckled, but the red that pooled at his aides sobered him quickly, and he continued, knowing his time was limited and wanted this to be said before then. "Cas, I gotta-I've got something to say."

"Dean-"

"Cas, just listen, okay?" He took a deep breath, and Dean could feel it, rattling around in his chest like spare change. "I know I'm just a human, and you're, well, you, and I know I'm fucked up a thousand ways from Sunday, but, Cas, buddy, I-I love you. I know you probably don't feel the same, but I love you."

"Dean," Cas breathed out, like a sigh after a long day. "I've fought Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory for you. I've sacrificed everything for you. I've guided your broken soul out of Hell and healed it. There is nothing I wouldn't do for you, and my feelings for you go beyond love."

Dean's breath caught in his throat, and he pretended it was just from the shock of his feelings being reciprocated.

"Cas," Dean choked out, and the angel seemed to understand.

"I heard a song today," Cas said quietly, and Dean could imagine him, sitting at the bunker, voice low in an effort not to bother Sam. "It was on the, uh, radio."

Dean's time was approaching; black spots began to cloud his vision, and his legs went numb and his arms went soon after, leaving him absently pressing the phone to his face.

"It went like this," and Cas began to sing in a deep hum, one Dean had never heard before, and, oh God, he would never hear again.

" _Wise men say, only fools rush in,_

 _But I can't help falling in love with you._

 _Shall I stay,_

 _Would it be a sin_

 _If I can't help falling in love with you."_

His vision grew darker, and Dean's eyes fell closed. _  
"Like a river flows_

 _Surely to a sea,_

 _Darling so it goes_

 _Some things were meant to be."_

The pain became unbearable; his consciousness slipping from him.

" _Take my hand,_

 _Take my whole life too._

 _But I can't help falling in love with you…I love you, Dean."_

There was no answer.


	2. My Love

**A/N: Sorry about the long wait, but this is the continuation of my Destiel story thing. So I realized I have no backstory for this, so it's set in about season 12-ish timeframe, where Cas doesn't have his grace again and Dean and Sam are both human again, and it's "back to the good ol' days". Well, prepare for tears. And thank you Izzy for the beta-ing because I'm a shit writer.**

"Dean?" Castiel said into the phone, eyebrows furrowed. "Dean?"  
There was no response from Dean, only the distant sound of Sam clicking away on his laptop in the next room.  
"Dean, are you alright?" Cas was beginning to worry for Dean; he wasn't so dense as to be unable to listen to the man's erratic breathing, though he'd associated it with being out of breath from the hunt. Now, Cas was beginning to doubt. If only his grace wasn't so violently weakened, he would be able to fly to Dean in a second. But such thinking was fruitless. To accompany his lack of powers, he would have to resort to the human method of transportation; driving. Closing his phone with a snap and a heavy exhale, Cas retrieved the keys to his Lincoln out of a drawer and walked determinedly to the Bunker's door.  
"I will return, Sam," Castiel called out in lieu of a goodbye, and the door shut loudly, the sound echoing in the large, empty space.

The few bodies Cas saw upon arriving at the warehouse were no surprise; Dean had been on a hunt, and hunted he had. Still, the headless corpses strewn about-already cool to the touch-brought the weakened angel little peace. It was unlike either of the Winchesters to leave such an obvious trace.  
His trench coat billowed behind him as Cas strode into the warehouse, face stony and solemn. The large doors opened with a creak and a rattle, one that made Cas doubt that Dean was still there, even if the Impala parked haphazardly outside implied differently. The warehouse yielded a whole new array of corpses, mangled and bloody, but with sniper-like precision Castiel's blue eyes found Dean Winchester's pale, limp body slumped against the far wall in an instant.  
It came with knowing every inch of a man's soul.  
"No," Castiel said forcefully, his stride long and fast as he started across the room. "No," He repeated, and he didn't know where the waver in his voice came from as he began to jog, and then run to where his charge lay, unmoving. "Please, no," There was a wetness on Cas' face as he kneeled next to the cor-next to Dean. He knew what tears were, but he also understood that tears were things of great sadness, and why would Cas be sad, when Dean was fine? The blood that oozed slowly from the gaping wound on his guy meant nothing; neither did the paleness of his skin. He was fine. Winchesters always-against all odds-were.  
So why did the man's heart hardly beat under Castiel's palm? Why did his face remain lax and unmoving as Cas brushed his fingers anxiously over his neck, searching desperately for a pulse that would contradict the dangerously weak beat?  
"Dean," He choked out, grasping the human's shoulders roughly and shaking. "Dean."  
Dean's eyes just barely opened, a flash of green, but Castiel knew he'd seen because the man let out a faint, "Cas..."  
There was much Castiel wanted to say. So much that the angel wanted tell this man, this human that he'd sacrificed everything for. But, even with all his denial, Cas knew that there wasn't time. His weakened grace could sense how weak the connection Dean's soul was to his body, and each withering beat of his heart, each pulse of blood out of his gut, severed it further.  
"Have peace, Dean Winchester," Castiel murmured. "I will take care of Sam."  
It was like those were the words that Dean was waiting for, because his final breath spilled from his bloodied lips in a sigh of relief, and Dean Winchester-the righteous man-was no more.


End file.
